Iliad
by Genesis Wolfe
Summary: A young woman named Robin Silver carries a great yet tragic secret that catches the eye of a certain pirate captain and takes them and many others on the adventure of a lifetime. Jack/OC. Not DMC or AWE compliant; takes place after CotBP.
1. One: Behold a Lady

**Iliad**

_A fanfiction by Genesis Wolfe_

_A Note to the Reader: In case any of this story looks familiar to you, yes, this is basically a re-posting of this story. I've decided to take a new direction with it, and therefore, took it down, edited, revamped, and renamed it _Iliad_ in order to follow the new theme it will be taking. So, with that little piece of trivia out of the way, I give you the story of a young woman named Robin Silver and how she became a pirate in name _and_ reputation._

**Chapter One: Behold a Lady**

"No! Absolutely not!"

The bejeweled hand caught the tray's edge from underneath, sending it skyward before it and everything on it clattered to the floor with an impressive clang. The maid attempted in vain to catch one or two of the tray's former occupants, but merely ended up with a fork landing prongs-down onto her slippered foot. She clenched her teeth, silently cursing the delicate footwear, wishing for what had to be the thousandth time that her employer would give up her silly, irrational dislike of shoes worn on the carpeting. Robin's green eyes darted along said carpeting, at the broken china, scattered silver, and the ruined dinner that her hands had so recently been relieved of holding. She said nothing, but flickered her gaze back to that of the woman standing before her, face showing only the slightest bit of apology, and even that most likely being forced.

"I said I wanted medium rare!" Mrs. Lipton roared. When the maid said and did nothing, the aristocrat stamped her foot angrily, grinding a bit of potato into the rich cream carpeting. "What are you waiting for? Clean this up, you little wench."

The maid's lips tightened and her fists clenched, but she stiffly bent down and began picking up the shattered glass and scattered silverware.

"Am I seeing an attitude, Miss Silver?" Mrs. Lipton asked, her voice venomous with warning. Robin Silver shook her head, glancing up.

"No, Ma'am," she said. "O' course not."

"I should certainly hope not," Mrs. Lipton said, reaching for a fan and reclining on a velvet chaise. She began fanning her flushed skin, her powdered and graying blonde hair being blown slightly about by her ministrations. "You really should be nothing but grateful to me, taking you in after that awful man was finally hanged and raising you in a proper manner."

_Proper, my arse,_ Robin thought. She was practically raised as a slave after her father was hanged. As Robin's anger simmered, her grip tightened on the glass until it punctured her skin. She didn't really quite feel it; she looked in surprise as a small stream of blood ran down her palm, spilling over her wrist and onto the floor. This, apparently, was not a good thing.

"Stupid girl!" Mrs. Lipton shrieked. "You're getting blood on the carpet!" A swift kick from a booted foot to the side. Robin hunched and grunted, biting her lip to stop herself from screaming at the tyrannical woman.

"Get out and tend to yourself," Mrs. Lipton sighed, her bellowing apparently tuckering her out. "Then get back here and clean up your mess."

Robin nodded and quickly left the room. Upon reaching the kitchen, she slammed the door closed and paced around the small counter island.

"Clean up _my_ mess?" she ranted. "She threw the bloody thing on the floor! And the next time she insults my father, I'm goin' t-"

"You're going to what?"

Robin spun to see a handsome smile and a mop of unruly blonde hair. Her heart raced faster though she felt a bit less angry.

"I'm gonna tear out 'er spine and wear it as a belt," Robin finished, her words contradicting the saccharine sweetness that now inflected her voice and smile.

"Always the lady, aren't you, Robin?" Nicholas replied. "And definite points for imagery, well done."

"I try," Robin replied. The servant boy's smile faded as he caught a glance at her hand.

"Robin, what happened to your hand?"

"My hand?" she said, a slightly confused look on her face. She looked down to the stain of red on her skirt where her injured palm hovered. "My hand!"

Robin quickly held her hand over a basin, grabbing the ladle from a nearby bucket of water and dousing it over her hand to rinse some of the crimson away.

"What happened?" Nicholas asked, stepping closer to survey the damage.

"Broken glass," Robin replied curtly. "It realized that the slab o' beef that was inhabiting it wasn't to milady's liking and in an act of selfless suicide leapt off the tray onto the floor."

Nicholas glanced at her face. So gullible.

"I ain't serious, Nick," Robin said. "She slapped the damn thing out o' my hand. Meat cooked wrong or something o' the sort."

"Robin, darling, you could try harder, don't you think?"

Robin threw a glare at him that could scare the hooves off a devil. He laughed half-heartedly. "I was only joking."

Robin pointed an angry finger at him, shaking it. "You better have been," she said. She stretched her uninjured left arm up to a shelf above her, rifling through its contents until finding a bottle of rum. Uncorking it with her teeth, she bit her lip as she poured the warm liquid onto the cut, groaning a bit as it burned and cleaned the wound.

"They do make medicines for injuries like that, you know," Nicholas said.

"Aye," Robin said, shaking her head. "An' it costs thrice as much and works half as well." She moved to replace the bottle to its home on the shelf, and pausing, then raising it in a tribute to Nicholas before taking a good swig.

"Gah," Nicholas grunted. "How can you drink that awful stuff?"

Robin licked her lips as the liquid burned comfortingly down her throat. "Mrs. Lipton is how I can drink this 'awful stuff.'" She kissed the bottle and reached back to the shelf.

Before her hand set the bottle back down, a huge explosion sounded from the living room, and the whole house shook. The bottle of rum slipped through her fingers and smashed to the floor.

"Dammit!" she yelled. "The rum!"

"Forget the rum," Nicholas said, his face confused and shocked by her lack of attention to the current situation. "That's cannon fire!"

Robin's heart leapt. Cannon fire. The only reason to use cannon fire is if the harbor was being attacked. The only people who ever attacked the harbor was...

"Pirates!"

Robin immediately took off towards the site of the explosion. Upon entering the living room, it was apparently obvious that someone thought a new window would be positively smashing in the north wall. Said someone also thought that the best way of achieving their interior decorating revelation was with a cannonball, which was now imbedded in the south wall. Mrs. Lipton was nowhere to be seen, but her screams seemed to be moving away from them, upstairs to her quarters. Robin spun to Nicholas as he ran in behind her.

"Get everyone to safety," she said. "The maids, the cooks, everyone!"

Nicholas complied, and Robin glanced around, looking for something, anything. Her eyes fell on the decorative swords above the mantle of the fireplace. They were beautiful heirlooms, not meant for real use. Unfortunately, they had no business just sitting there and looking pretty.

Robin ripped one off the wall, the one that seemed the lightest and most manageable, and an antique dagger from the mantle itself. Tucking the dagger into the belt of her apron, she quickly made her way to the entrance of the house, pausing suddenly. Who was she going to fight? Her first instinct was to protect herself, and protect Nicholas, which would mean to fight off the pirates. But then…said pirates may be able to take her away from here, perhaps to Tortuga, to find some of her kin?

She raised the sword, gazing at the highly polished blade, as if searching for the answer to her situation. She sighed deeply, hazel eyes looking past the steel at the scene before her; the Lipton Manor sat north and above the rest of town, and she could see the beginning of the carnage that the pirates were wreaking upon the small English port. Smoke was rising from the waters from cannon fire, and she could hear screams from the market below.

It would have been the wise thing to hide.

But she wanted answers.


	2. Two: Good Day, Good Sir

**Iliad**

_A fanfiction by Genesis Wolfe_

_A Note to the Reader: In case any of this story looks familiar to you, yes, this is basically a re-posting of this story. I've decided to take a new direction with it, and therefore, took it down, edited, revamped, and renamed it _Iliad_ in order to follow the new theme it will be taking. So, with that little piece of trivia out of the way, I give you the story of a young woman named Robin Silver and how she became a pirate in name _and_ reputation._

**Chapter Two: Good Day, Good Sir**

On the other side of the spectrum, a man watched joyously as his crew had their way with the small town, pillaging and plundering to their heart's content. In the midst of the utter chaos that was now overtaking the town, he found he could easily stroll through the streets without anyone giving him a second glance. Ladies ran screaming with lust-ridden pirates on their heels, while some of his more respectable men made their way through the town's banks. In fact, here came one of those respectable "men" now.

Anamaria approached him so swiftly that he almost anticipated one of her famous slaps. He flinched slightly as she stopped in front of him, and she rolled her chocolate brown eyes.

"I'm not going to hit you, if that's what you're expecting," she said icily. "You deserve it for some reason or another, no doubt, but that's not what I'm here about."

"And what's that, love?"

"There's something you might be interested in seeing," Anamaria replied, grabbing his wrist and leading him forcefully farther into town.

**OoOoOoOoO**

It wasn't hard to distinguish pirate from townsman. In such a small town, it was impossible to not know everyone's face. Robin easily navigated her way through the innocent inhabitants of Port George until finally coming to the source of the riot. A group of pirates were currently tormenting people at random it seemed, giving any passing woman catcalls and threats of a very intimate nature. A woman, in men's garb, was with them. One of the pirates took notice of Robin.

"Ah, well then, what have we here?" he said. He licked his lips and took a step towards her. She quickly set her feet in a stable position and raised her sword in front of her defensively.

"Ooh," said a second one. "Looks like we got ourselves a fiery one here, mates. Look at that mop o' scarlet on her head."

"Stop it," said the woman, narrowing her dark eyes at the men. She glanced at Robin. "We don't want any blood today, girl, so I suggest you head on back home."

"Well, ain't that a coincidence," Robin replied. "Because the whole town was goin' to say the same thing t' you."

With those words, Robin lunged at the first pirate who spoke. His apparent surprise and probable drunkenness slowed his reaction as he attempted to dive away, allowing her to land a painful stab into his right arm. She retracted her sword as he fell to the ground, clutching his wounded limb in pain, and arched her back to avoid a blow from the female pirate's sword. She gave the woman's sword such a hard, backswept blow that the blade was knocked out of the piratess' hand, clanging to a halt ten feet away. She attempted to make a swipe at the dark lady herself, but the woman, wearing breeches and lighter attire, was more lithe and agile, able to dodge the blow and take off at a fast sprint toward the docks. Robin's attention turned to the third pirate, who held his short dagger somewhat helplessly and took a defensive stance.

"A dagger versus a sword?" she said. "Honestly?"

The pirate glanced down at his meager weapon, and then flung it at her. She ducked and it whisked by her head, taking a small chunk of auburn curls with it. She touched the newly reduced lock of hair and growled, launching herself at him. He squealed rather unmasculinely and took off at a wild, unpaced run into the alleyways. It didn't take long for Robin to follow him.

**OoOoOoOoO**

Anamaria led Jack quite roughly through the streets, her quick measured pace rather contradictory to the permanent sea legs Jack carried himself on. He very nearly knocked over a vendor's booth of blown glass, but luckily, one of his crew threw a townsman into it, destroying the beautiful prism-like works of art before Jack did.

"There."

Jack's eyes followed Anamaria's dark gaze to an ensuing battle. Jimbo was screeching like a barn owl, using a splinted table leg as a weapon, brandishing it haphazardly and covering his face as his opponent's sword fractured his makeshift rapier into toothpicks. And his opponent…

"That's interesting," Jack muttered, tugging at a braid of his goatee with an engrossed expression on his face. The girl…or woman, since the distance between them hid her true age, appeared to be very angry at the very frightened Jimbo. She brandished a beautiful sword, and when she spun he saw the glint of the dagger tucked at her waist.

Jack watched as the large, lumbering form of Tom Bones began to sneak up behind the girl, no weapon out. Anamaria apparently noticed this, and she yelled at his stupidity, catching the girl's attention as well. As Robin turned her head to her new offender, Jimbo managed to knock the sword out of her hand with what remained of his table leg and moved to grab her. She fetched out her dagger faster than Jack had ever seen a woman move, and had given Jimbo a good slice on the arm and managed to spin fast enough to give Tom a shallow nick in the face. Before she could bring up the dagger to defend herself, Tom backhanded her. Jack could hear the crack of her jaw from where he stood, and watched the dagger fall from her grasp as she was thrown to her knees by the blow. Before she could stand Tom had grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet, wrapping a sinewy, dirty arm around her torso, pinning her arms to her body.

"Tom Bones!"

Tom straightened at the sound of the captain's barking command, still holding Robin tightly as she struggled and screamed curses at him and his predecessors. Jack made a beckoning gesture, and Tom began to drag Robin over to him.

"Yes, Cap'n," Tom said.

"A pox on yer genitals!" Robin spat at Jack, attempting to kick him. He sidestepped her attacks, smirking.

"Ah, darling, I already received that curse after a round o' drinks in Tortuga," he replied. Anamaria grimaced, but Robin's furious expression twitched momentarily into one of recognition.

"Tortuga?" she said softly. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"It's a pirate town, love, nothing a little girl like you would be fit for," he replied.

"I know what it is, you flea-ridden git," she countered, her eyes shooting green fire at the man before her. "And I'm no little girl."

She felt her insides crawl as the wild-haired captain ran a condescending eye over her body. Her light cotton dress clung to her from sweat, and a few of the buttons of the bodice had been ripped off in her battle with the pirates, revealing a considerable expanse of a pale, lightly freckled chest and the top of her undergarments.

"Yes," he replied. "We all can definitely see that." Tom snickered, tightening his grip so that his forearm rested conveniently under her breasts. She snarled and began to struggle, only to make Tom guffaw at her attempts.

"You're a lively one, for being simple house help," Jack said, smirking at her efforts.

"I ain't simple 'house help,'" she retorted.

"Oh, I know, dear," he replied condescendingly. "Do what you like with her, Tom, and then head back to the ship. I'm bored."

"No!" Robin cried, struggling even more desperately. She knew what Tom might "like to do with her", and wanted no part of it. Not to mention that the captain's mentioning of Tortuga still rang in her head. "Please, wait! Captain!"

Jack paused. He had been called many things by the people his men looted, but something as respectful as his title had never been one of them.

"Hold on, Tom," he said, slowly turning. The girl stopped struggling as soon as Tom stopped trying to drag her away. He looked intently at Robin. "Yes, Miss…?"

"Silver," she replied, her face shining with sweat, stray locks of red sticking to her temples. "Robin Silver."

"Miss Silver," Jack repeated. "'Captain,' eh? Not something I hear from little harbor girls often. 'Oh God' and 'More, Jack, more,' obviously, but never 'Captain.'"

Robin bit her tongue against a raucous comment, but figured respect would profit her far more than a wry remark.

"Captain," she repeated. "Please take me to Tortuga."

Jack showed no emotion but a slight rising of the eyebrow. Then he burst into a series of laughs that nearly brought him to tears.

"Take you to Tortuga?" he bellowed, still heaving with mirth. "Darling, you expect me to take you onto my ship?"

"Merely askin', Captain…"

"Sparrow," he said, sweeping off his hat in a grandioso bow. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Sparrow, then."

"Sorry, love, but the answer is no," Jack said with mock sympathy. "No ladies aboard the ship."

"What the hell is she?" Robin exclaimed, nodding sharply at Anamaria.

"Well, there are loopholes in the Code," Jack replied. "And that's Anamaria. She's not a lady." The dark piratess glared.

"The Code," Robin muttered. "You claim to uphold the Code of the Brethren?"

"Yes," Jack replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Parley."

"Won't work, love. I don't like that one. Can never remember it." Jack waved Tom away, and the large man grinned and began to shuffle away with Robin in his wake.

"No!" she screamed. "Let go o' me, you disgustin' bag o' cat puke!"

Tom, apparently not one to listen to insults, placed a grubby, thick-fingered hand over her mouth. He reeked of rum and fish, and Robin nearly gagged on the combined odors. She weighed her options. Do not fight, and end up possibly pregnant with this ogre's child or worse. Or…have a bad taste in her mouth. Neither alternative seemed appealing, but the evils were unequal.

She opened her mouth as much as possible, and brought down her strong white teeth on his foul, sausage-like index finger. Over the disgusting taste of his skin she tasted a telltale copper tang of blood. Tom bellowed and momentarily released her. She stumbled to the ground and tried to take off, but she felt him grab her by the back of her collar.

Jack, who was formerly turning to make his way back to the ship, decided to watch the struggle with an interested air. The little firecracker of a girl had managed to slip momentarily from Tom's grasp, but the giant of a man grabbed her by the scruff of the neck with a hand that, Jack noticed, was freshly bloodied. The girl continued to pull away, flailing her hands at something to give her leverage, howling like a cat in heat. Tom gave a great yank at her dress, and the abused buttons that held the top of it up snapped, leaving her upper torso clothed only in her undergarments. The low, scooped back of her bodice showed a stretch of skin, and the paleness of it was what first caught Jack's attention. However, after the initial surprise of seeing her so quickly disrobed wore away, he noticed the pattern of raised and sunken lines on her pale hide.

"Stop."

Robin struggled to her feet as the large man stopped yanking on her dress. He still had a hold on her, so running away would simply undress her further, leaving her entire dress in his hands. She straightened as Jack approached.

"Turn around," he said quietly.

"Make me," she said. "_Captain_."

Jack tilted his head at her, beads jingling in his wild mane. He feigned a caring look. "You look _awfully_ tired, love."

Robin frowned. "I'm not ti--"

Before she could finish, she felt a blow to the back of her head. It reverberated through her entire body, and everything turned red around her before she saw nothing else.

Jack smirked as the girl crumpled into Tom's arms.

"She'll be of use to us," Jack explained as he caught Anamaria's confused and angry stare. "Trust me."


	3. Three: She's Alive

**Iliad**

_A fanfiction by Genesis Wolfe_

_A Note to the Reader: In case any of this story looks familiar to you, yes, this is basically a re-posting of this story. I've decided to take a new direction with it, and therefore, took it down, edited, revamped, and renamed it _Iliad_ in order to follow the new theme it will be taking. So, with that little piece of trivia out of the way, I give you the story of a young woman named Robin Silver and how she became a pirate in name _and_ reputation._

**Chapter Three: She's Alive**

_He was smiling. No, sneering, his eyes mocking her pain and fear with an amused, sickening grin. Her eyes flooded with tears of terror as she screamed for her father._

_"Papi! Papi!"_

_"Let 'er go! Please let 'er go, she's jus' a child!"_

_The bad man moved out of her sight. She felt the other men touching her bared back, reaching farther down to touch her in places she knew they shouldn't touch._

_"Did you know," said the bad man, "that children heal from wounds at twice the speed of adults?"_

_"Leave 'er be!" She heard the jangling of heavy chains, the sound of her father struggling against his binds. "She's never done anythin'. Do whatever ye want t' me, but let 'er go. Please!"_

_"But your little daughter will be ever so useful to me, Silver," the bad man replied. He walked back over to her, kneeling down and lifting her head from the table she was tied to. She saw his piercing eyes, a brown color that burned almost red, the strangest eyes she'd ever seen._

_"Make sure it's deep," the bad man said, straightening and handing one of the others a beaten piece of parchment before turning and walking out the door. She heard her father gasp and struggle to release himself._

_"Don't ye touch 'er! I swear I'll kill every one o' ye if ye so much as pluck a hair from 'er head!"_

_A strong hand was placed on her back, and two others held down her thin, pale arms. She felt, momentarily, a thin, cold silver of sensation on her back._

**OoOoOoOoO**

Robin woke up with a start, face coated with a cold sweat, breath ragged. She sat up, and as the fog over her eyes cleared, she took in her surroundings. A small circle of light shone from high in the wooden wall to her right, and steel bars surrounded the rest of the space she inhabited. She was locked in a cell.

"What the hell?" she said, trying desperately to remember what had happened. She glanced at the door of the cell and found the answer to her inquiries. At least a dozen pirates, a motley crew to be sure, stood at the bars of her cell, staring at her expectantly. She suddenly felt a chill, and looked down at herself, yelping in indignation at the sight of her underwear, covering herself.

"Where's my dress, ye stupid, reeking apes?" she yelled. Leering eyes and mischievous chuckles were her only reply.

"Let me out!" She yelled, leaping at the door of the cell in

a swift frenzy. The force made the whole cell rattle, and the pirates stepped back instinctively, gaping as the caged woman clawed and kicked at the door. As she realized her efforts were hopeless, she gave up, shuffling to the back of her cage, the bars cold against her bare back.

"Pretty little thing," one pirate said, bending at the waist as if observing her more closely. "Bit scrawny. Not much on top at all."

The other pirates sneered, some laughing, encouraging the man.

"I'll bet she's an absolute tiger i' the sack, though, eh mates?" he said, turning to his companions and making vulgar movements with his hips. At first she grimaced, but his movements made a glint of silver catch her wandering eye.

As he closed his eyes in his offensive act, she leapt to the front of the cage, snatching the dagger from his belt and reaching at his head. She pulled him back by the hair, catching his head roughly against the bars and holding the dagger to the soft flesh of his throat. The other men gasped and backed away again.

"Let me go, ye filthy rats, or I'll swab the deck wi' his very blood," she threatened, pressing the knife in just enough to draw a thin line of blood to prove her point. Her eyes glanced from one pirate's face to another, not missing the fleeing back of one of them who bounded up the steps to the main deck, apparently looking for help.

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Cap'n!"

Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of his ship, hatless and coatless, letting the strong wind ease the _Pearl_ in whatever direction she chose to go. His only response to the cry of his crewman was a slight inclination of the head in the voice's general direction.

"The girl!" The young man, whom the other men called Barnacle for his initial clinging nature towards Jack upon being made a member of the crew, was breathless, apparently from running around the decks in search of Jack. "The girl!"

At this, Jack turned around, giving the boy complete attention.

"Awake, is she?" he said, grinning. He had told the crew to alert him immediately when she awoke, partially because he wanted to have a word with her, and partially because he wanted to see the look of indignation on her freckled little face when she realized the predicament she was in.

Barnacle shook his head. "No. Er, yes. No!" he said, shaking his head with a feverish fervor. "It's Johnny!"

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he didn't allow the boy to finish, if indeed he was going to at all. He was furious. He had distinctly told the men not to touch her. He wasn't even sure how they did, as he held the keys to the brig himself. But ol' Johnny was never the most intelligent man on board, and likely let masculine urges block out the captain's threat of being hanged by the manhood in return for touching the girl.

Imagine Jack's surprise, when, upon opening the door to the brig and descending a couple steps, he saw a scene that would have been amusing, had it not been so perilous.

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Bloody flea-ridden barbarians!" Robin screeched, spitting at the others as they tried desperately to coax her out of whatever she planned to do to poor Johnny.

"That's rather odd, coming from a feral cat."

She was silenced, her eyes traveling up the stairs to the upper deck, where the captain stood silhouetted in the doorway.

"I'll kill 'im," she said, pulling Johnny's head farther back to emphasize her words. "I swear to everythin' holy, I'll kill the little pervert."

"I believe you, love," Jack said, his face serious as he descended the rest of the stairs. "I'm well aware that you're more than willing to take a chunk out of any one of my men here. And no doubt our dear Jonathan deserves it." He gestured grandly at the trembling pirate in Robin's clutches. Robin's eyes narrowed.

"However," Jack continued. "We find ourselves in a bit of a pickle, m'dear."

"What's that?" she asked. "I see no reason not to kill off the useless piece o' garbage right here and now."

Jack shrugged. "Be my guest," he said, spreading his hands out before him.

"Cap'n?!" Johnny squeaked as Robin tightened her grip on his greasy locks.

"Nevertheless," Jack continued, casually moving towards his men. "We'll have to kill you back."

Robin paused, green eyes narrowed to slits. Jack chanced a glance at the girl to see her reaction, and continued.

"Killing a pirate has its disadvantages, love. For example, his shipmates'll be mighty sore about it, and if you're lucky enough to avoid them, you'll have his captain to answer to, if you catch my meaning, love."

He watched, hiding his mirth as the girl calculated her choices. Slowly, tensely, the blade moved away from Johnny's throat and came to rest at her side. Johnny's face beamed in relief as her hand, still embedded in his hair, began to ease his head away from the bars. Suddenly, without warning, her hand shot back, slamming his head to the bars with such force that the entire row of cages rattled. She finally let go, and Johnny slumped to the floor, unconscious. The rest of the crew scrambled to get him as far from the crazed girl as possible, and Robin glanced over at Jack.

"He _did_ deserve it," she said simply. Jack, while agreeing wholeheartedly, gave her a stern look. Her proud countenance fell slightly, and she looked angry once again, eyes blazing.

"Why am I in here?" she demanded. She once again realized that she was in nothing but a chemise and corset, and quickly crossed her arms over herself.

"Did you think I'd let you run around my ship freely after you took a chunk out of half of my crew?" the captain asked. His eyes traveled down to her underthings. "And I am semi-sorry to say that your dress did not survive the endeavor."

Robin scowled, and then glanced at the other men, who were once again ogling her and snickering behind their grimy hands. She dropped her eyes, ashamed, unable to cover herself properly.

Jack glanced at his men, understanding the girl's sudden silence. "Get on deck, ye scurvy dogs! This is no exhibition! Get on with ye!"

Robin watched in silence as the crew stumbled over themselves to follow their captain's orders. As the last one climbed the stairs, pausing to catch one last glance at the half-naked woman, a hand shot towards Robin's face. She leapt back, cowering in the corner of the cell.

Jack sighed, his outstretched arm still holding his coat. She hadn't even seen him remove it. He looked impatient.

"C'mon, woman," he said, shaking the coat slightly, in invitation. "I can't keep them above deck forever. They're bound to come back down. Might as well keep you as covered as possible, until we can find you another dress."

Robin hesitated, then snatched the coat out of his hands, wrapping it around her. It reeked of rum. She rather liked it.

"Thanks," she muttered, still looking to the floor. She glanced up. "A new dress?"

Jack nodded. "Can't have you traipsing about in your undergoodies. Distracts the men, you see."

"Well, I don't need a dress…"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I can wear men's clothes just fine," she explained. "That's all I used t' wear, before I was made house help."

"Really?" Jack said, leaning against the cell adjacent to her own. "And what, pray tell, did you do, in order to wear men's clothing?"

"I was a pirate."

Jack was silent for a moment, then sputtered into genuine, rowdy laughter. She scowled in reply.

"Well, maybe not officially a pirate," she said, annoyed. "Me pop was one, an' I was on the ship with him…"

"And then he realized what a mistake it is to have a woman on a ship," Jack said, "and deserted you at the nearest port."

She bristled.

"I'll not have anyone speak ill of me old man," she snarled. "He was a good man. That's probably more than you can say."

Jack's dark eyebrow rose again, studying her scowling face, and he spun on his heel, heading towards the door.

"Wait!" Robin cried out, panicking. "Where are you goin'?"

"Above," he said, not pausing.

"Please don't leave me down here," she said, half-pleading, half-demanding. "I'll work. I know me ships, remember? Please!" She felt her heart drop as he continued walking.

He didn't head up the stairs, as she expected, but instead grabbed a coiled up rope from a peg on the wall. He brought it back and threw it at the cell rather forcefully.

"Prove it," he said simply. He grabbed a small wooden stool and sat down in it, leaning back to watch her.

"What th' hell am I supposed to do with this?" she said incredulously. "Hang meself?"

"If it betters society as a whole, be my guest, love," he said, smirking and making himself comfortable. He tilted his head, beads jangling beneath his worn leather hat. "You said you were a pirate."

Robin frowned, looking at the rope. Inspiration suddenly caught her, and she reached a small hand through the bars, snatching the rope. He watched intently as her nimble fingers manipulated the rope, and his eyes grew wider as she progressed, forming loops and winding figures into the twisted hemp.

It took her all of three minutes before she stretched the rope out before her, pulling it through so he could see it in its entirety.

"Thirty-four enough?" she said, smirking at his impressed gaze as he stood up to inspect the various knots.

"Aye, suppose so," he said, taking the rope from her for a closer look. He nodded. "Well, you know your knots, that's for sure, missy. But you're still no pirate."

Robin felt her freedom from the cell slipping further away. "I think I am," she said, hoping he'd reconsider. "But I won't try to be, if ye don't want. I'll just help around th' ship."

"And be a distraction for the crew?"

"Put me in men's clothes, somethin' that won't show a figure, and they'll have no reason t' be distracted."

"Ah, how little you know of men," he said, smiling rakishly. "We've all seen what'll be under those clothes, love." He eyed her pointedly. "Think any of us are likely to forget soon?"

"I'll make 'em forget," she replied. "They wouldn't want an 'unfeminine' woman, would they?"

Jack considered this for a moment. "All right," he said, looking very tired. "I'll get you some clothes. But there are conditions."

"All right," she said, hopeful once again. "Anythin'."

"You're not really crew, you'll care to remember that," he said. "You're the lowest of lows here, no ordering my men around. But you'll stick to the Code, nonetheless. If you attack any of my men, you'll have a nice little trip to Davey Jones' locker, savvy?"

"I'll not attack anyone," she said. "But if they touch me…"

"They'll answer to me," Jack said, interrupting her threat. "You may not be crew, but you're still on my ship, and I'll not have you being hurt either." He glanced at her face, which showed a hint of gratitude, and smirked. "Which brings me to the last condition. You'll sleep in my quarters."

"Wha--?" Her mouth was slack. "You filthy…slimy…man!"

"Eloquent," he said, enjoying her outrage. "Keep your…ahem…clothes on, m'dear. I'll not lay a finger on you." He eyed her mischievously. "Not until you want me to, that is."

When she did nothing but sputter on unformed words, he continued. "It's for your own protection, love," he said simply. "My quarters are locked from the inside, no one can get in unless permitted. And what would you prefer, a comfy, safe room to sleep in, or a hammock surrounded by two and a half dozen men who only find womanly pleasures once every full moon?"

He watched her weigh her options, noticing that she had a nervous habit of licking her lips. He found it rather fascinating. He decided to do anything in his power to make her nervous as much as possible.

"All right," she said, hanging her head in defeat. "Not that I have much choice, anyway."

"I figured you'd see it my way, love," he said. He moved to open the cell door, and caught her pocketing the dagger in some hidden fold of her petticoat. She glanced up, unfazed at being caught.

"I'll not be on a ship o' men without any protection, captain," she said simply. "It's the first rule of the Woman's Code."

He found himself smirking as he unlocked the door, allowing her to step out. Watching her movements and assuring himself she wasn't about to launch another attack, he guided her up the stairs.


End file.
